


Little Bird

by imightkeepyou



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3309542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imightkeepyou/pseuds/imightkeepyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Morrigan kisses him, it is with hesitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Bird

The first time Morrigan kisses him, it is with hesitation. He fumbles, thinking he’s forced himself into a space he wasn’t meant for, but she stops him. 

"I am…" 

Her usually clear voice trembles and it feels like a gesture too intimate for him, it feels like a blow to the heart. 

"Unused to doing such things?" Voice carrying high into a question, she raises a shoulder, drops it casually, her way of apologizing; all the while her hands clench and unclench at her sides. 

The corners of his mouth pull down in worry and he slips his hands around hers, thumbs running over the skin of her palm in an attempt at soothing her.

"It’s fine. There’s no rush."

* * *

 

The second time, it is with reluctance. Yet, the act  _is_  initiated by Morrigan, so he fumbles less and tries to catch more—she throws a lot at him: the closeness of her, on her hands the feeling of feathers ruffling against his cheek, on her lips a wildness chasing shivers down his spine. 

When she pulls away, there is a look on her face he can’t quite place, and something wistful and worried about the way she says, “I suppose I would be wise to become familiar with this.” 

His brows raise at that. “Not if you don’t want to.”

The look she gives him is more animal than human, and her hands drops to his collar, tugging gently. “Oh, I want. That is not the issue.”

* * *

 

They’ve shared many kisses since the second, reluctant kiss and this moment, but now, now it is morning and sunbeams are sneaking through the tent flap. He woke moments ago but stayed under the blanket, not eager to start the day with muscles as sore as his. Morrigan stirs against him in her sleep, eyelashes pressing against the pale of her cheek, limbs moving ever so slightly. Wondering what she is dreaming of—a chase, wolf and prey, or maybe a story she’d heard once as a girl, about running and never looking back?—he leans closer, pressing kisses to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her shoulder, until he feels her laugh, hears the rust of dreams in her voice. 

"Isn’t it a little too early in the morning for sentimentality?" 

Grinning against her skin, he aims the next kiss for her lips. “It’s never too early.”


End file.
